


wanna have fun (and be in love with you)

by CoraRochester



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Blow Jobs, Daddy Kink, Double Anal Penetration, Established Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Exhibitionism, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Threesome - M/M/M, but i dont skimp on romance and friendship okay, okay so most of this is relentless sex, past FWB Steve/Thor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-07-05 06:43:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15858315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoraRochester/pseuds/CoraRochester
Summary: “You know...” Steve said, hands now moving up Bucky’s back, dragging his shirt up and over his head. The shirt got thrown over the arm of the couch, landing haphazardly on a side table. “Thor and I used to talk about… sharing.”





	wanna have fun (and be in love with you)

From across the room, Bucky saw Steve nod his head, tilting it ever so slightly towards the long, mostly darkened hallway that presumably led to whatever rooms their host didn’t want them in. Bucky didn’t react other than to raise one eyebrow and push up off the wall. He futzed around at the drink table for one long moment, snagging another glass of wine. He drank it and left the glass on a low table along the far wall.

And then he let himself melt away, down the dark hallway, to the very last door at the end of the hallway. The wood floors gleamed a little wetly under his feet, but they didn’t creak, and his shoes didn’t squeak. The door opened without a sound, and the lights turned on automatically, set to some sort of switch. They didn’t come on very brightly: it was a bedroom, and the spill of light was soft and sensual over the low, platform bed, a low, dark square in the center of the room, spilled over with the sort of lighting to highlight the dip in a woman’s cleavage, the bulge of a man’s cock in his briefs. The sort of lighting that played on the shadows between two bodies fucking.

Across from the minimally dressed bed, with its thin blue coverlet and dark grey pillows, there was a wall of mostly windows; it looked out over the cityscape, and Bucky found himself drawn to it. It was dark; it was well past midnight now, and it had rained earlier, leaving his view slick and wet, a glimmering greasiness that sent the neon and gold lights of the city ricocheting over the sinuous wave of traffic.

He was just about to put his hand to the glass when he heard a voice from behind him.

“Who said you could touch, baby?”

Bucky’s hand snapped back, and he turned to see Steve leaning against the doorway. Steve’s thick arms were crossed over his broad chest, and he looked stern, so Bucky smiled. _You ass,_ he thought affectionately.

“No one,” he chirped back, turning all the way around and crossing the room to stand in front of Steve. “Come in here,” he said, tugging at one of Steve’s big hands until his arms fell. Steve was like that: so much bigger, wider than Bucky, and yet he still let himself be yanked into the room. “Shut the door?” Bucky wheedled, relying on the wattage of his prettiest grin.

Steve pulled the door shut but didn’t lock it. Something about the way he did it, and the way he smiled at Bucky, made the whole motion seem like it had been Steve’s idea to shut the door in the first place.

“There’s a lot of people out there, baby,” Steve said, backing Bucky up, steering him towards that big, massive bed. Big hands trailed up his arms to his shoulders; Steve pushed him down onto the bed and Bucky obligingly let his knees buckle. “Can you be quiet?”

Bucky tilted his head back so he could look up at Steve’s blue eyes. They looked black in the low lighting. His beard looked darker, as did the roots of his honey-colored hair. The top few buttons of his shirt were undone, and shadows fell all along Steve’s neck.

“I can be good.”

Steve’s thick fingers toyed with Bucky’s hair, where he’d used wax to push it up off his forehead in a messy pompadour to show off the way it waved into almost curls.

“Hmm,” Steve said, skeptically, and Bucky licked his lips and let his mouth fall open, but otherwise didn’t vocally protest. “It’s not my home, is all,” Steve finally said. “I don’t want to be rude.”

Bucky didn’t say, _But you were the one who told me to come back here._ Instead, he smiled to himself and waited for Steve to finish winding up to whatever it was he wanted to say. His performances were always worth the wait.

Steve’s big hands drifted down the sides of Bucky’s neck, massaging, and his gaze was heavy on Bucky’s face. He preened under the full force of Steve’s attention. He loved the way Steve looked at him, how carefully Steve watched his face, how Steve’s eyes felt like hot stars, burning up wherever they focused on him.

“You know, just because I say something doesn’t mean we have to do it, baby,” Steve finally said.

Bucky’s fingers hooked into Steve’s belt loops. “I know, daddy.”

Something relaxed in Steve’s wide shoulders, the unhitching off a too-heavy yoke. “Do you want to be good for me, here? Like we talked about earlier? Don’t say yes just because you think I want to hear it.”

Looking up from where Steve’s body moved under his shirt when he breathed, Bucky met Steve’s eyes. “Yes, daddy.”

Steve leaned down, and gave Bucky a single kiss: it was long and slow and wet, and the plush heat of Steve’s mouth felt like a good beginning. It left Bucky breathless, and he chased Steve for a brief moment when he pulled away, before Steve’s hands on the side of his face stopped him.

“You still a little open for me?” Steve asked. They’d fucked a few hours ago, before the party. Bucky had crawled onto Steve’s lap and rode him, arms around Steve’s neck and feet planted on the seat of the armchair Steve sat in. A throne for fucking in.

Bucky tensed, and relaxed, thinking. “Mmhmm,” he hummed.

Steve let go, and stepped back. He reached over and opened one of the twin bedside tables, frowning as he poked around. He withdrew a tube of lubricant, and walked back to stand in front of Bucky.

“Stand up,” he said, so Bucky did. “Turn around. Drop your pants to your knees.” Bucky did. “Hold yourself open for me, baby. Bend forward just a little bit, but don’t let go.” Bucky arched his back and pried his cheeks open, and was rewarded by a cool slither of lube down over his hole, a streak of it slipping down to his balls. His dick was mostly hard between his legs, fat but not sticking straight up yet. He wanted to rub at himself — not really to jerk himself off, but to just give himself a little tease of pressure, the allure of it.

“I want you to stay just like that baby. Don’t make a sound.”

Bucky’s mouth felt dry while he waited; it seemed like an eternity while he watched Steve walk across the room to a door Bucky hadn’t noticed. A bathroom. Cool air licked over his exposed hole, and he couldn’t help but to tighten up a little. He breathed out, and let go, pushing out and bearing down, relaxing with each measured little breath.

Steve came back and stood next to Bucky to lay a huge, white towel across the bedspread, right under where Bucky’s knees would go.

Warm hands pulled Bucky’s hands away from his asscheeks, letting them close back up around the drizzled smear of lube. His hands were lowered to the bed. “Scoot up onto the bed,” Steve said, the whole weight of his body hovering behind Bucky’s as he awkwardly fumbled forward, pants still caught around his knees. It was awkward, for a few moments, until Steve put his big hands on Bucky’s hips and shifted him, then one huge hand to wrap around Bucky’s calves, angling them just so. Bucky didn’t have to see himself to know that he was positioned so that his ass was served up on a platter, level with Steve’s hips.

There was more lube, and then a couple of Steve’s broad fingers. The press of them was subtle and slow, at first, a violinist caressing his strings before running roughshod over them. It felt like no time at all before three fingers were angling inwards, searching, probing, yanking themselves almost directly over his sweet spot before withdrawing.

Bucky couldn’t whine or cry out; not here. He had to bite his lip, curl his fists into the towel beneath him. He had to push back against Steve’s fingers, asking for more.

“If we were home, I’d go bare with you,” Steve said quietly. “We don’t do that often enough, do we, baby?”

Licking his lips, Bucky turned his face to the side. “No, daddy, we don’t.”

Steve’s fingers were slow to pull out; Bucky felt wracked with the involuntary pull and suction of his own body, fighting to hold onto whatever part of Steve was tucked up inside of him. But Steve was bigger and stronger, and so his fingers were gone. There was the plasticky tear and crumple of a condom wrapper, and the sound of it stretching over Steve’s dick.

Steve fed his dick into him slowly at first, a careful pressure and glacially slow torment until every last inch of that thick cock was stuffing him full. He knew why Steve was careful, especially at first, especially when they weren’t at Steve’s home, with the luxury and care of time and guaranteed privacy. A low, deliberate breath came from Steve when he bottomed out, sounding louder than usual in the strange quiet of the room. They could hear the muffled sounds of everyone else: laughter and music and the occasional shout, but in here, everything was muted, hushed. A deliberate quiet, where everything loud had to be held inside the ribs.

The first few moments were quiet and slow, an evenly paced slickness from where Steve thrust shallowly inside. His hands on Bucky’s hips were firm, but gentle, as Bucky let Steve rock him into each thrust. It was as natural as the lapping of a calm tide, sweet and wet, on a sandy shore.

Bucky’s cock was hard, bobbing between his barely spread thighs and leaking over the towel beneath him. “Daddy?”

A pause, and Bucky’s breath hitched at the way Steve’s dick ground inwards, hips pressed flush to Bucky’s ass. “Yeah, baby?” Steve asked. His voice was low, all dirty and gravelly.

“Will you touch me?”

A hand on his hip loosened, fingers slipping down lower and further in. Fingers slid over hairless, silky skin as Steve began thrusting again; Bucky bit back a whine when they skirted over his cock to massage his balls. There was no hair there, either, nothing to dim the sensation of Steve’s calloused hands on Bucky’s bare skin. Everything was hypersensitive, every little motion sparking a jolt in his cock. Steve’s touch was light at first, rubbing little circles on his sack, making Bucky’s hips stutter as he arched into the touch. Steve’s cock was too big to simply fall out when they lost the rhythm, but the angle changed.

The hand on his sack grew firmer, curving into an almost cruel grip around his helpless cock and balls. “How can I fuck you properly if you don’t stay where I put you?”

Bucky instantly dropped his arched back into a sinuous bow, contritely falling back into the position Steve had so carefully arranged him into before. But it was too late. The hand didn’t let go, but tightened. Steve’s cock, so thick and long, slid back in so deeply, but he didn’t resume thrusting. He just stayed there, snugged up so perfectly in Bucky’s hole.

“Answer me, baby.”

He could only manage a whispered reply. “You can’t, daddy.”

“That’s right, baby,” Steve answered, low and soothing. The firm hand on his cock loosened, and petted him even more gently than before. “Which is why I need you to be good for daddy and stay right where I put you. Alright?”

Bucky sighed, relaxing further into his position. Steve asked him if he could do this, and he _could_ do this for Steve. If Steve asked him to do something, it was because Steve believed he could do it. “Yes, daddy. I’ll be good.”

“Good boy, baby.” Steve practically growled the words, and then he really started fucking into Bucky’s loose, pliant body. Steve’s jeans were barely lowered: the open teeth of the zipper scraped up the back of Bucky’s thighs deliciously, digging into soft skin. Steve’s body felt huge and powerful behind him, surging into him with each powerful thrust and rocking him in time. Steve’s heavy balls, hairy and hot — and Bucky could just imagine them, how red and flush they got when as Steve worked himself up to orgasm — slapped up against Bucky’s taint. The noise of them was just slightly too loud. Not enough to be heard out in the living room, but anyone standing outside the door would know what was happening.

All the while, Steve’s hand played with him: sliding up to pinch the wet tip of his dick, then a slick palm travelling down the length of it, a firm tug on his balls, and then fingers tucking up right underneath his sack to rub at his prostate from the outside.

It felt impossible to concentrate on it all at once. He was stuffed so full that each teasing movement over his heated crotch was too much, too soon. The pressure was intensifying by the second, and he wanted so badly to give into it but he _couldn’t_. Steve had carefully outlined his plan earlier, and Bucky had promised.

“Daddy, daddy,” he panted out. “S’too much.”

The hand pulled away, and settled on his hips while Steve slowed his thrusts back down. Steve’s hands were warm anchors, guiding him through slow thrust after slow thrust, keeping him held together when all he wanted to do was rupture.

“Good boy.” Bucky realized, belatedly, over the harsh sound of his own breath, that Steve was gently praising him, downshifting his desire to something slower and more manageable.

For now.

Steve’s thrusting slowed, stopped. He was buried deep inside, and his hands were petting idly at the small of Bucky’s back. Bucky could feel how sweaty he was, how easily Steve’s fingers glided over his body.

“Do you remember what we talked about, baby?”

Bucky hummed, signalling that he did, but he didn’t trust his voice not to crack.

“Do you still want me to?”

Bucky hummed again, and Steve gifted him with a sharp, teasing grind of his dick, deep into Bucky’s guts. Bucky lay still, taking it. Steve’s hands disappeared from his hips, and Steve’s dick slid out a little, and it made him feel a little emptier than he’d have liked.

Bucky’s breath shuddered. “Hurry up,” he demanded.

Of course, time seemed to slow as Steve’s hand moved to his pocket, rustling against the back of Bucky’s thigh, stroking needlessly through the fabric before moving with actual purpose. Then Steve’s hand was gone, and something impossibly smooth skated up the back of his thigh.

“Here,” Steve said, handing Bucky his sleek phone, the screen lit up. “Put this between your legs, baby.”

The front facing camera was already on, and the camera was recording, but it took a few moments of craning his neck forward to get the shot lined up perfectly. On the screen, with his face ducked down, he could see where Steve’s thick cock had plugged him up. He wanted to keep looking, but he closed his eyes and sunk back into position, waiting for Steve to start fucking him again.

He heard a faint rustle of motion: Steve picked the lube back up. There was the click of the cap, and the blurt of more lube being poured. A little wet trickled over Bucky’s rim where it was stretched wide around Steve’s cock.

There was the wet, slick sound of Steve’s hand, rubbing lube over Bucky’s rim, the lube cool at first, but quickly warming. The jolt of coldness was pleasant, a sharp spike in his anticipation. It was just idle rubbing at first, getting him wetter and more relaxed, but the tender feel of Steve’s fingers caused a deep rooted tremor in Bucky’s body. He couldn’t help but to clench down around Steve’s unmoving cock, trying to milk it, to entice Steve into sweet movement again.

“Jesus, baby. You’re so sweet,” Steve said. “Just give me a minute, baby. Let daddy be sweet to you, too.”

There was a new, smaller blunt pressure at his rim, teasing the tight seal of Bucky’s hole around Steve’s heavy cock. Steve’s hand was just under Bucky’s thigh, right where his balls had been rubbing up against Bucky’s perineum.

Steve eased his finger inside, pulling Bucky further open to meet the new demand on his body.

He started thrusting again, slowly. It was gentler, but more intense; with the new fullness came more awareness of how much of Steve that Bucky was taking into his body.

One finger wasn’t enough, he realized. Not enough close to enough.

“More,” he croaked out. His mouth was dry: desperation, want, desire, an unfulfilled need for more. Bucky felt his cock throb, wet but untouched, between his legs.

Another wet finger pressed against his rim, and Steve’s thrusts came even more slowly. Bucky breathed, felt the new softness and give of his lax hole not where Steve pressed against him, but from somewhere deeper within.

The second finger pressed inside, two broad fingers right up against his walls. The stretch made sweat prickle deliciously all over his body. Their movements now were more shallow than the deep, inquisitive press of Steve’s cock, but they pressed outwards a little, too, teasing even more pliancy from Bucky’s body.

“One more,” Bucky demanded, “An’ I wanna come.” His words were slightly slurred.

The third finger was slightly more tricky going in. If Bucky could properly process thought, he’d think the angle must be killing Steve’s wrist, but he was too caught up to wonder at that.

When the third finger was inside of him, it was like being submerged in a too-hot bath. His heartbeat went nuts; he could feel every inch of his body tingling with sweat and blood-red flush. His whole being throbbed, and he wanted to thrust back, _hard,_ onto Steve’s cock and Steve’s big fingers, but it would’ve been too much.

“I’ve got three fingers in you, baby. God, you’re taking me so well.”

Somehow, Steve seemed to know how overwhelmed Bucky was. A knee was pressed onto the bed next to Bucky’s, and Steve leaned forward, his shirt buttons pressed into Bucky’s back along his spine.

“You want more, though, don’t you, baby,” Steve said, his fingers and cock sliding in and out of Bucky’s body easily. “God, bet you wish you had another cock inside you, don’t you, sweetheart. You’re too much for me, is that it? You need a little something more.”

The fingers inside of him were rubbing insistently now, moving just slightly out of sync with the thick cock fucking deeply into him. Bucky’s breath was one hitched gasp after another, cracked by cut off cries and abbreviated moans. He could feel himself burning closer and closer to orgasm, blinding white heat that centered deep inside of himself.

“God, baby, that’s it, you’re gonna come for me,” Steve rambled, slamming his hips forward again and again. “Don’t touch yourself, baby, you can do it, come on.”

The fingers pressed forward, the thick cock splitting him wide open — and Bucky came untouched, thick bursts of it fucked out of him, a tidal wave of sensation that had him shuddering and biting his lip and he jerked himself backwards onto Steve’s fingers and cock, a hail mary plea for more as he worked through the last of the tremors.

“Jesus _fuck,_ ” Steve said, fingers slipping out of Bucky’s hole and smearing upwards to latch, hard, onto Bucky’s hips all over again. Still overwhelmed and twitching around the cock lodged deep inside of him, Bucky went ragdoll limp. He felt, numbly, like it was happening to some other fucked out body, the jagged last few pumps of Steve’s hips. Over the ringing in his own ears, he could just barely hear Steve’s guttural groan.

Steve was panting for a long, harsh moment, and Bucky let himself enjoy the last twitches of their sated bodies, still stuck together. It wouldn’t be long now before Steve would have to pull out of him and leave him empty.

He couldn’t help the noise he made when Steve did pull out. It was all too raw, too oversensitive. He wanted more and he wanted to curl up into this bed and let Steve pet him until he fell asleep, drunk on sexual pleasure and the heady comfort of Steve’s indomitable presence. A bulwark.

“You did so good,” Steve praised, reaching down to grab the still-recording phone. He turned off the camera, and Bucky let himself be pulled back up right, wincing slightly at the stretched numbness in his lower back, the aches in his tensed knees and shoulders.

They cleaned up quickly, without the usual comforts of a shower in Steve’s huge bathroom. It was strange to watch Steve rummage a little idly through someone else’s drawers, casting about for wipes or a washcloth. Both of them were a little hobbled and awkward, with their pants and shirts tucked out of the way of their own messes, and Bucky felt the throb of time passing more acutely now that he’d come.

When they were all cleaned up, the dirty towel left in the hamper and the condom knotted and wrapped up in tissue and stuck in the wastebasket, the bedspread smoothed back to unwrinkled perfection, Steve stopped Bucky just by the door. “Are you sure?” he asked, catching Bucky’s chin with his index finger and thumb.

“M’ sure,” he whispered, ducking up for one last kiss.

When they left the bedroom, all the sound rushed back into Bucky’s ears all at once. When he looked at his phone, he was surprised to see that they’d only disappeared for fifteen, twenty minutes tops.

“Here, baby,” Steve said, leaning down to murmur right into Bucky’s ear. “Why don’t you go grab our jackets while I say goodbye? I’ll meet you by the door.”

It only took a moment to cross the room and rifle through the closet for their jackets. He put on his pea coat and tucked Steve’s leather bomber jacket, dark brown and worn to perfect smoothness, over his arm. While he waited at the door, he shuffled his weight from one foot to the other, enjoying the pull of tired muscles. He wanted to crawl back into that big bed, this time naked, rucking up the sheets and laying his head down on those fluffy looking pillows.

Across the room, Bucky could see Steve saying goodbye to Thor: their blonde heads were bent together, their blue eyes only black from this far away. They were both staring right at him.

* * *

 

They got ready for bed as soon as they got back to their apartment that night, stripping down to their underwear. Bucky curled right up against Steve’s chest, laying his head down against the fleshy swell of Steve’s massive pec.

“Do you still want to send it, baby?” Steve asked, tucking his hand under the back of Bucky’s waistband, cupping the swell of Bucky’s ass. It wasn’t sexual; it was too comfortable for all that. “This is up to you, sweetheart.”

During the car ride home, Bucky had trimmed down the video, cutting the blurry fumbling from the beginning and end. The angle wasn’t exactly perfect, but it was passable, and the sound quality was surprisingly decent.

“Yeah,” Bucky said, pressing a kiss to Steve’s chest. “Send it.”

_[01:44 AM]_

_To: Thor_

_Remember how we used to talk about sharing?_

_Still want to?_

_< 1 video attachment>_

The reply came after a half hour, when Bucky was half delirious from the way Steve was stroking his back and rubbing his hair. There were no words, just a video of a hard cock, flushed red and shiny wet where the foreskin was pulled away from the head. A big, familiar hand was wrapped around the veiny shaft. The way Thor jacked himself was brutal and quick, abs rippling even as thick globs of come spurted over them.

Bucky shivered as the video ended and restarted itself, and Steve kissed him slow and dirty and sweet, pushing him down onto his back underneath him until Bucky was truly shaking, tired and overstimulated and and coming all over his belly, panting quietly while Steve jerked off all over his softening cock.

* * *

 

Their age difference was just pronounced enough to teeter on the edge of respectability: Bucky was fresh out of his Master’s program, whereas Steve’s blonde hair was doing its best to disguise the threads of silver that were starting to appear. They had met at work. It was vaguely unethical, because Steve was Bucky’s superior, but their not-at-all-hidden relationship was never questioned. It simply was. The COO was involved with the new kid in IT. Steve was respected enough, and Bucky was liked enough, for everyone to shrug it off without too much reproach getting mixed into the gossip.

A few professional conversations led to lunch at Steve’s favorite upscale bistro, led to drinks, led to Steve bending Bucky over his kitchen island and fucking him until he came all over Steve’s fancy tiled floor. And a lot of that led to increasingly sweet sleepovers, which led to Bucky mewling out _Daddy_ in a wrecked little voice as Steve wiped come from Bucky’s sweaty skin.

Their already fast-paced relationship really fast tracked after that. Bucky moved in after five months, and they went from doing most things together to doing almost everything together within eight months. Their lives snapped together like puzzle pieces.

At least five days a week, they went to the gym. Bucky liked to go not only because Steve’s gym was beyond swanky, but also because it gave him the chance to appreciatively study Steve while he lifted weights, ran on the treadmill, or stretched in front of the floor to ceiling mirrors. The shower stalls were big enough, private enough, that they could slip quietly in there together and suck or jerk each other off while they were riding a fiery endorphin high. They could take advantage of the saunas, riling each other up with sneaky hands skating over sweaty skin.

The gym was also where Bucky met Thor, one of Steve’s best friends.

* * *

 

This is how it started:

“We’re both a little too… dominant,” Steve explained. _Alpha top,_ Bucky’s brain cooed, helpfully. “But if we were both single… eh.” A big arm flopped over his shoulders and dragged Bucky closer, and Steve pressed a little kiss to Bucky’s temple as they snuggled into the couch. “Sounds boring, but it was mostly watching football and a few blowjobs.”

It did sound boring in it's own way, but also sweetly comfortable. A luxury of friendship uncluttered with overburdened sexuality.

“How long was he with Jane for?”

Steve scratched at his beard. “Three years? Four? Yeah, four. Think he’s having a tough time getting back into dating after that break-up.”

Bucky leaned into Steve’s side a little more, taking advantage of the way Steve’s shirt neck was tugged down and trailing little kisses up his neck to his ear. “He likes me, though,” Bucky said, and then nipped Steve’s ear lobe. Steve’s shampoo and cologne were already going to his head, low, dark scents that always made him think about getting off.

A brief moment of adjustment, and then Bucky found himself tugged into Steve’s lap, his knees spread around Steve’s narrow hips and sinking into the couch cushions. The look in Steve’s eyes was thoughtful. “You think so?” he asked. His hands were cupping Bucky’s ass, massaging from his pelvis down to his thighs, rubbing big, powerful circles into his skin. It felt like something was loosening inside of him with each pass of Steve’s hands; his spine felt like candle wax, melting into the hot mold of Steve’s grasp.

“He watches me, sometimes. Watches _us,_ I mean. Pretty sure he knew I was suckin’ your cock in the showers last week.”

Yeah, judging on the way Thor’s eyes had burned when he looked at Bucky’s mouth after they got back to their gym lockers, he knew. And judging by the not insubstantial bulge in his shorts, he’d liked the idea of it.

Under his thighs, he could feel the hot place where Steve’s dick was hard up against him, and he belatedly realized he was hard, too, brushing up against Steve’s belly as he moved with the sway of his massage.

“You know...” Steve said, hands now moving up Bucky’s back, dragging his shirt up and over his head. The shirt got thrown over the arm of the couch, landing haphazardly on a side table. “Thor and I used to talk about… sharing.”

Bucky inhaled, sharp and cutting. His fingers locked on Steve’s shoulders. His whole gut had squeezed up tight at Steve’s words. All of him felt like it was throbbing.

“You like that idea, baby?” Steve asked. His voice before had been cautious, broaching the subject delicately, but now it was all hot liquid, pouring all over Bucky’s body. “I think you do, sweetheart, you’re shaking.”

That night, Steve carried Bucky into the bedroom and laid him out on his back. He barely worked two fingers into Bucky before sliding his dick right in, letting Bucky feel the welcome, burning stretch of just a little too much, too soon.

“You’re greedy tonight, baby,” Steve groaned. He was staring down at the place where Bucky’s ass was pressed right up to Steve’s groin, anchored in place by the thick cock inside of him and the arms hooked around his thighs. “Am I not enough anymore? Used you so good you need another cock stuffed up inside that hole?”

“Yeah, daddy,” Bucky agreed, breathless, air rushing out of his lungs with each deep, rocking thrust. The way Steve was fucking him was urgent but somehow immense, like Steve wanted to split him open right to the heart. To the greediest, most selfish core of him. The hungriest, sluttiest part. Steve wanted that part of him, wanted to lap it right up out of his body.

Steve hooked both of Bucky’s legs over one arm, and pressed a finger in, right up beside his cock. “Or you just want to be that good for me, show off in front of daddy’s friends, is that it?” The words came out haggard, panted out over the sharp slaps of Steve’s increasingly ragged fucking.

Clawing at the bedspread, Bucky resisted the urge to wrap his hand around his cock, to jerk himself quick and graceless until he came sloppy and hard over himself. “I’d be so good, daddy. So good for both of you.”

The cock inside of him throbbed, and Bucky clenched up a little around Steve’s cock for those last few ragged thrusts. “Fuck,” Steve swore, his whole beautiful face screwed up in pleasure. Bucky rode the contact high of Steve’s orgasm and reached down to start jacking himself off in earnest.

His softening cock slid out while Bucky was still jerking himself off, but Steve jammed a few fingers into his leaking hole, and Bucky came right after that, panting and mewling, wrung out like a cloth.

The intense want abated, briefly.

But they kept thinking about it. They kept talking about it. And then, they decided, it wasn’t simply enough to _want,_ when you could _have._

* * *

 

“You two seemed to enjoy yourselves the other night,” Thor said. He wasn’t wearing a towel, and his cock was only mostly soft, laying against his thigh. He wasn’t cut.

“Mm,” Steve agreed. His voice was low, barely audible in the private sauna room Steve had requested when the three of them got to the gym for their usual work out.

The room was dark and humid, the steam adding a dense, filmy quality to everything. The wood was stained dark; the stone flooring and seats were even darker. The heat made breathing hard: each gasp of in-drawn air was delicious, each exhale hard to release.

Bucky sat next to Steve, unable to pull himself too far away, even with the heat. Thor sat on the bench across from them, thighs wide open. Thor didn’t wax or shave: there was hair across his chest, thicker at his groin. The shadowy space at the apex of his thighs was even lightly fuzzed, from what Bucky could see from under the meaty splay of Thor’s dick and sack.

He wondered what it would be like to eat Thor’s ass, to lick over that tawny fur and tease his hole. He’d lick all over those balls, too. Up the shaft of that huge cock, to the fleshy head.

“What about you, Bucky?” Thor asked, idly, like there was no hidden weight there at all. “Did you enjoy your tour of my apartment?”

While Bucky watch, Thor’s hand moved to his cock, rubbing the flat of his palm up and down the length of his thickening cock. “Yeah,” he said, eyes glued to Thor’s dick. “You’ve got a real nice place, sir,” he said.

“So polite,” Thor remarked, and Bucky knew the comment wasn’t directed at him.

Steve’s hot, damp hand ended up on the sweaty back of his neck, the grip welcomingly hard. “He’s a good boy. Aren’t you, baby?” Bucky’s eyes had dropped when Steve grabbed his neck, and he saw that Steve was hard too, the familiar swell of his cock— not all the way hard yet, but all fat and swollen on this thigh. Both men in this room were looking at him, thinking about him and how he looked and sounded when he got fucked on Thor’s bed.

The warmth Bucky felt in his stomach had nothing to do with the sauna, and everything to do with the sweetness of their interest. Between his legs, his cock was chubbing up. He was lightheaded, and he wanted to suck Steve off.

Leaning forward, Bucky got up close to Steve’s ear and almost lost it at the heady smell of sauna and sweat beading across Steve’s smooth, golden skin. “Daddy,” he whispered, sparing a long glance at Thor, who was watching with undisguised interest, “can I suck you off?”

“You want to suck me off, baby?” Steve asked, turning those serious eyes on Bucky and putting his thumb, all salty and slick, right against Bucky’s lips, parting them ever so slightly. “You want daddy’s friend to see what a good job you can do?” The thumb pressed into his mouth and Bucky wasted no time in sucking it down lewdly, hollowing his cheeks dramatically and working his tongue.

“I guess so,” Steve said after a moment. He took his thumb away and reached for one of the spare, clean towels in a roll on the bench. He spread it out between his knees, folded over just once. “Get down here baby. Thor’s gonna come sit next to me and watch you work, baby. Show him how perfect you are.”

Bucky crawled gratefully between Steve’s knees, letting his shoulders fall, and the rest of his body relaxing as he settled into place. Through heavy lidded eyes, he could see Thor settle in next to Steve. Both of them had their legs spread wide, so wide their knees and thick thighs were touching, probably all sticky-sweaty-slick.

He met Thor’s intense gaze for one taut moment before ducking forward and sucking Steve’s mostly hard cock into his mouth. He kept his eyes closed as he sucked Steve down to the root, enjoying the flex of Steve’s dick jerking into full hardness in his mouth. He dragged wet lips, sloppy tongue back, and looked up to see Steve’s gaze fixated on him.

Both of them were watching him. It wasn't the first time he'd indulged in a little casual exhibitionism, but it this, whatever this was— it was weightier than being a little drunk and loose at a club or a party.

It was meaningful in a way he couldn't exactly measure out. It was want beyond all want, shared equally out between all three of them.

Knowing that, it was easy to sink into the rhythm of sucking cock, not just by feeling, but thinking about the way he looked too. Two men were witness to the spit on his chin, the way his lips were surely getting red. Two men listening to the obscene sound of his mouth, suckling hungrily. He closed his eyes and gave into the swell of calm that muted his mind to nothing but soft, white light.

A big, unfamiliar hand landed on the back of back of Bucky’s head, and he jolted a little at first, swallowing convulsively around Steve’s cockhead. Of course, when he jerked open his eyes, he saw it was Thor’s hand, just gently cradling the back of his skull. Not pushing, but only just barely guiding him.

And Steve’s hand was between Thor’s thighs. Just over Steve’s knees and thighs, he could see the partially hidden movement of Steve’s hand, massaging that hairy, splayed thigh. Was he going to play with Thor’s cock — or would Steve let his fingers trail down further, snug up to the tight cleft behind Thor’s balls?

Bucky whined a little, the sound muffled and throaty around Steve’s cock, and Thor’s hand clenched in response.

“I bet his mouth feels good,” Thor said, his voice low, low like a growl. Animal, dark. Predatory.

“You got no idea.” Steve sounded breathless, and Bucky reached up, working his fist over the base of Steve’s cock in tandem with his lips sealed tight over the head. The thick fingers in his hair scratched up and down, tugging just right before letting go.

Through watery eyes, he could see Thor jerking himself off now. Not to get off, it seemed. Not right away. It was slow and even, just that big, square hand, moving up and down his cock. Thick arm muscles shifting and bulging; abs shiny with sweat and flexing—

Steve’s voice jerked Bucky back into focus. “You like it, baby? Like how Thor’s looking you?” Bucky sucked harder, doubling down. “Oh, you do, don’t you, sweetheart. Daddy and his friend getting off because of you.”

With his free hand, Bucky cradled Steve’s balls, drawn up high and swollen tight like they were. So warm, the crease of Steve’s ass warm and slick against his fingers where they were snugged up tight behind his sac. He couldn’t tell the tremble of his pulse from the throbbing beat of Steve’s.

“Christ, Steve. He takes it so well. He swallow?”

Steve’s response was breathless. “Yeah, baby, you gonna swallow for me?”

Instead of answering, Bucky sank his lips all the way down to the base of that thick cock, and looked up at the two of them from lidded, hazy eyes. Steve’s hands curled into Bucky’s hair, and they were moving together, one synchronous machine, dragging Steve’s come out of his body in thick, creamy spurts that filled Bucky’s mouth almost faster than he could drink down.

By the time he let Steve’s dick fall from his mouth, Bucky felt drunk. The hot air, the rush of giving, the combined weight of Steve and Thor looking at him….

“Whaddaya think, baby boy?” Steve panted out. “You wanna show Thor how good you are, now?”

Thor’s eyes were like fire, drawing him in. “Yes, please,” he muttered, mouth already feeling sore and used up. How would it feel in a couple of moments, when he was working Thor’s thick cock? How would it feel even later that night, when Bucky was curled up in bed next to Steve?

There was a slight moment of trepidation, a murmur of hesitation, before he sealed his lips around the broad head of Thor’s cock. It had been almost a year since he’d been with anyone but Steve. He didn’t think he’d ever want anyone but Steve.

But — and this is what Bucky had realized, over the course of half a dozen conversations with Steve — Thor was only here, only thrusting his dick into Bucky’s mouth, as a part of what Bucky felt for Steve. He couldn’t, _wouldn’t,_ have Thor without Steve. Bucky liked Thor, thought he was thick and gorgeous, and a genuinely good guy. But he wanted to have sex with Thor only because he wanted to have sex with Steve _and_ Thor.

“You know,” Steve said, no longer sounding so breathless and now rubbing and squeezing the back of Bucky’s neck, “we used to talk about fucking a boy together, you know.”

Thor’s hip’s stuttered, and Bucky reflexively squeezed the base of Thor’s dick, not wanting to choke and ruin everything. He was so worked up now that it was hard to control his impulse to just gag himself, go crazy to try and get Thor off harder, faster.

“Bucky wants it, don’t you baby boy? You want two big cocks in that little hole of yours.”

Bucky whined around the cock in his mouth, trying hard to maintain the matched pace of his mouth and fist flying together over the too-much length and width of Thor’s dick.

“It was Bucky’s idea, you know? He noticed you looking at him. Thought maybe he saw you watching us here, before. You don’t have to be jealous of how sweet my boy is. I’ll share with you.”

Thor came with his head tipped back, abs rippling like magic and electricity were writhing beneath his skin.

And Bucky swallowed it all.

He felt loose and loopy, and he was dragged back up onto the bench with Thor and Steve, sandwiched between their hot sweaty bodies; he was boneless, slack and patient, the throb of his cock the only spark of desperate awareness in his whole body. He wound up nestled against Steve’s big shoulder, one of Steve’s big arms slung around his shoulder to toy with a nipple, the other hand snaked over his hip to reach his cock. Bucky’s one leg was slung over Thor’s massive thigh, the other knee bent, foot on the floor. His thighs spread wide.

“Go on,” Steve encouraged, starting to jack Bucky off. “See how hot and tight his little hole is.”

Thor’s fingers were gentle, two of them pressing right up against his hole, rubbing over it. Through slitted eyes, Bucky could see that Thor was staring intently at him, at the place where Bucky’s relaxed little hole was just barely open, unresistant to the thick fingers rubbing up against him.

“He’s got a sluttly little hole,” Steve said. “He takes a cock so good, everytime. So hot, so tight. Can you feel it?”

Thor must be able to, because those big fingers were suddenly inside of him, searching, searching — and Bucky moaned when they found his sweet spot, jerking up into the tight circle of Steve’s fist, tight around his cock.

“He’s tight,” Thor grunted. “You really think you could take us both, little one?”

Those fingers were rubbing over and over again against the sensitive tissue, just on the edge of too much pressure and stimulation, his body squeezing up tight around all that white-hot pleasure.

“I can do it,” Bucky said, defiant around indrawn air. He reached up, wrapping his hand around Steve’s thick arm, squeezing trying to anchor himself against the onslaught of it all, the heat and the sweat trickling down his face, the relentless pressure building inside and the vise grip on his cock. “Daddy — tell him —”

“Yeah, baby, you can,” Steve said, whispering sweetly to Bucky before addressing Thor with a rougher, commanding growl. “Look at him, he wants it. Think how good it’d be, oh, fuck, Thor. Both our cocks right up inside of him. You could come right inside of him, he’d get so wet and sweet, I’d let you lick him clean. He’s a good boy—”

And then Thor and Steve were kissing, sloppy and dirty above his head, and Bucky bit his fist as he came and came, messily, all over Steve’s fist, his hole locking up tight around Thor’s fingers.

As they left the gym, Thor bought Bucky a big smoothie from the health bar, and Bucky said “Thanks, sir,” in a raspy, used-up voice.

Thor and Steve both watched as Bucky slurped from the big straw, needlessly and gratuitously licking his lips clean after. “Why don’t you come over this weekend,” Thor said. “Maybe Saturday night? Eight o’clock?”

Steve wrapped his hand around the back of Bucky’s neck, scratching soothingly through hair still damp from their shower.

“Sounds good to me,” Steve said. “Buck?”

“Mmm,” Bucky said. “Yeah, sounds good to me, too.”

* * *

 

Saturday Bucky spent laying around the house; he ate lightly for breakfast and lunch, skipping dinner altogether. He made Steve give him a long, leisurely massage in front of the TV so he could doze and watch his shows. He spent longer than usual cleaning up while Steve laughed at him through the closed bathroom door.

“Shut the fuck up!” Bucky yelled cheerfully. “I’m about to give the performance of my life. My ass has to be even more perfect than it usually is.”

Of course, Steve just laughed harder.

Bucky opened up the door a crack when he was finished douching and just starting up the shower for one last rinse. “You know,” he said archly, eyeing Steve, laid out on the bed in just a pair of sweatpants, dick clearly visible through the weathered cotton. “This could just be me trading up. Thor’s got a big dick, there, too, pal.”

“This morning, when you wanted the world’s longest backrub, I was _daddy;_ now I’m pal? Maybe I’ll leave _you_ with Thor,” he shot back.

Bucky turned and walked back into the bathroom. “Are you going to help me shower and get this plug in or what?”

They arrived on time to Thor’s, fresh and happy from their shared shower. Bucky was cleaner than clean, plugged up with his favorite toy — noticeably thick, but not too large for longer wear — and comfortably tucked under Steve’s arm.

Thor’s place looked even bigger when it was emptied of party-goers, the lights slightly dimmer than usual and soft music playing from discrete, smooth sound system.

“Glad you could make it,” Thor greeted. Bucky felt strangely overwhelmed by Thor’s accent in a way he hadn’t been since they first met, and he melted against Thor’s big, broad chest when Thor reeled him in close with a hand on his ass. He kissed the corner of Bucky’s mouth, and his beard felt different from Steve’s: shorter, maybe. Not as soft, but still nice against Bucky’s clean-shaven cheek.

Much to Bucky’s delight, Thor kissed Steve’s cheek, too, though without putting his hand on Steve’s ass.

There was a moment of anticipatory awkwardness — it wasn’t exactly an uncertainty, but Bucky wasn’t sure how to move forward from Thor’s doorway. He’d been daydreaming about this for weeks, and all their carefully laid plans had fizzled out to an idiotic urge to just strip off right then and there, to just bend himself over the edge of the couch and demand to be taken. He hadn’t felt this awkward about sex since he was a teenager.

Thankfully, Steve steered them forward, and he wound up on Thor’s minimalist couch; Bucky jolted happily at the comfortable fullness of the plug fitted so neatly inside when he sat down.

“A drink?” Thor asked. “I just bought some gin.”

Bucky watched from the couch while Steve and Thor moved around each other in the kitchen: Steve sliced up neat little wedges of lime while Thor put together three drinks: gin poured over ice, topped with the fanciest tonic Bucky had ever seen. Steve leaned over Thor’s side to drop in the lime.

“Here you go, sweetheart,” Steve said, handing over one of the two drinks he carried over. Steve sat to Bucky’s left while Thor ended up on his left.

“Thanks, daddy,” he sighed. He inhaled before he took a sip: it was crisp and bright, and fizzy on his tongue. He drank greedily after that initial sip, tipping his head back and wanting the sweet buzz to flood his system, and when he opened his eyes, Thor was looking at him.

The ice clicked in his mostly empty glass when he set it down on the coffee table. “You like what you see?” he asked, turning towards Thor.

Thor smiled, slow and predatory, and Bucky leaned back against Steve’s chest, watching the way Thor drained his glass in a single swallow. With a slow, relaxed movement, he put his empty glass down next to Bucky’s. He turned to face Bucky, rubbing one hand — slow, enticing movements — over the already huge bulge of his dick.

“Why don’t you come here, and I’ll show you how much I like it.”

Bucky tilted his head back against Steve’s shoulder, looking up. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that Steve hadn’t had much, if any, of his own drink. “Daddy?” he asked.

Steve rubbed a hand briefly over Bucky’s ass, right where the plug was nestled between his cheeks. “Go on, baby,” Steve said, pushing Bucky forward. “Show off. Show daddy’s friend how good you are.”

It was like falling into bed at the end of a long day, it was that easy to sink into Steve’s command. He enjoyed the thrall of this role, playing his daddy’s boy, the sweet little bottom that’d do anything for dick. He loved the way Steve enjoyed it. As he got onto his knees and closed the distance between himself and Thor, he could hear Steve taking a drink, and he relished the thought of Steve watching his ass as he leaned forward, balancing his hands on Thor’s thighs and arching his back to prove he wasn’t above playing it all up to get his way.

“What can I do for you, sir?” Bucky asked, leaning further into Thor’s space until their mouths were all but touching. He pushed his hands together over Thor’s groin until they were framing his dick. “I could suck your cock if you want, sir.” He licked Thor’s lower lip, just the faintest little kitten lick, tasting gin and lime. “Eat your ass, too,” and this time, he kissed Thor properly, dragging Thor’s tongue into his mouth before pulling back away. “I’m good with my mouth, sir. How do you like it?” he murmured, carefully balancing on one hand to rub the other over Thor’s cock, hot and hard through his jeans. “You want me to get your cock all wet so you can fuck me with it?”

Thor put a hand in his hair and dragged his head back just enough for Bucky to feel the slight strain of it — a powerplay, a glorious indulgence of strength.

“You certainly are mouthy,” Thor agreed. His voice was low, way lower than Steve’s, and it rumbled and shivered its way through Bucky’s veins. He must’ve actually shivered, because Steve put a warm hand on the back of his thigh and rubbed him soothingly. He was on display, like this, but anchored and bookended on either side of himself, twins with blond hair and big dicks.

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed, because it was true and it was a part of why Steve loved him. “I am.”

Thor’s grip on Bucky’s hair loosened; he started to pet Bucky’s hair, instead, not unlike the way Steve did it. He’d probably seen Steve play with Bucky’s hair, longer and a little wavy on top, half a million times. “Mmm,” he hummed, smiling as he looked at Bucky. “Give me a little suck,” he said. “Just while Steve finishes his drink, and then we’ll take care of you, hmm?”

“Yes sir,” he said, snappy and grinning.

Thor watched while Bucky unbuttoned his jeans, a golden, patient god. He lifted up his hips when Bucky tugged his jeans and underwear down, smiling smugly when Bucky hummed appreciatively at his thick dick, swelling up nice and heavily against Thor’s obscenely muscled stomach.

Bucky ran his tongue from base to tip, not letting himself get sloppy wet just yet. Now that they weren’t all a little sweat-drunk in a hazy sauna, Bucky was better able to catalogue the way Thor’s dick was different from Steve’s. His balls were heavier, the skin darker than Steve’s; the hair at his groin all honey golden, unlike Steve’s darker body hair. The base of his cock was thicker, meatier, all plumpness tapering off to a neat, narrower head that Bucky suckled happily into his mouth. Thor wasn’t cut the way both Steve and Bucky were, and he hadn’t played with many uncut cocks, so he took a moment to tongue the loose skin at the head a bit, taking care not to linger over the sensitive, weeping slit.

He sucked Thor’s cock leisurely, curling his tongue loosely around the head before pressing his tongue hard up against the frenulum. It wasn’t about getting off, yet, after all; this was all just build up. Pregame cock sucking.

Thor must’ve been visibly enjoying it, because Steve sounded a little amused when he spoke from behind Bucky. “Feels good, doesn’t it? He sucks cock like a pro.”

Time moved in little bobs of his head and the loose circle of his first two fingers around the meaty girth of Thor’s cock, which meant he lost track of time altogether, really, and Bucky gave a startled groan when Steve’s arms came around his hips and his hands were suddenly working open his belt and jeans in deftly dealt little jerks.

“I fingered him, earlier,” Steve said, conversationally, like he hadn’t just tugged Bucky’s skinny jeans down to mid thigh, still reaching around to tug at Bucky’s cock. “You’ve got your favorite plug in, don’t you, baby? You wanted to be all open for us. I can slide right in when you wear that plug for me.”

Bucky pulled off Thor’s cock with a audible slurp. “Yeah, daddy, yeah. Let’s do that.” He pressed his face into Thor’s groin, breathing in clean and musk, shuddering when Steve took his hand off his cock to jostle the base of the toy. He enjoyed the way Thor kept petting his hair like he was little and small, delighted at the riot of stimulation from both men.

Thor took Bucky’s chin, and lifted his face away from licking his swollen balls. “You want to go into my bed, now?”

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed readily, sitting up and back on his heels, not really hampered by the way his jeans and underwear were still stuck on his upper thighs because he was leaning back into the protective circle of Steve’s arms. On the coffee table, he could see that Steve had finished his drink down to the ice, too.

Steve’s hands came up, stroking down Bucky’s chest. Thor watched. “You sure, baby? We won’t be mad if you change your mind at any point.”

It was something that Bucky knew, but hearing Steve say it so matter of factly never failed to fill Bucky with warmth. He leaned back even further, craning his head to kiss Steve’s cheek and mostly getting beard. “I know, daddy. Thank you,” he mumbled with quiet satisfaction.

Between the three of them, they managed to get Bucky and Thor’s pants pulled up enough to get them up off the couch and able to walk; Thor lead, while Bucky followed, Steve trailing behind them with a possessive hand low on Bucky’s back.

The bedroom was the same as it had been the night of the party: the same massive california king, the same sexy lighting, the same gorgeous view of the city drenched in the velvety richness of the night sky. The only notable difference were the towels on the nightstand, right next to a large pump dispenser of lube. There was the same faint trepidation as he’d felt that night, too: he wanted to do it, and he was going to do it, but he felt nervous about it. He’d been fisted before, and he and Steve had played with stretching him open with toys and fingers alongside Steve’s cock… but this was not the same. This was a whole other person, a third being brought into their very established twosome.

Thor must’ve sensed Bucky’s sudden nerves, because when he turned, he leaned over to give Bucky a kiss, pressing him gently but inexorably backwards into Steve’s chest. It was a sweet kiss, a lover’s kiss: not chaste, but gentle and exploratory, not simply for fucking’s sake, but to add something more.

A comfortable lassitude settled over Bucky with each lingering press of Thor’s mouth. This wasn’t about fucking a stranger, a person he didn’t know, a person without any understanding of him, or Steve, or anything about their lives.

This was Thor, Steve’s best friend. Thor was an unexpected doorway, a key to yet another way to give more of himself over to Steve.

And between the two of them was Steve, a conduit for lust in triplicate, or maybe it was something more than lust, something that resonated deeper, a sort of masculine love and friendship that surpassed merely fucking out a base urge to have more and more.

Or maybe Bucky was the conduit, a hub of connection for two men that didn't care to fuck each other but still wanted to share their bodies with each other anyway.

It didn’t matter, exactly, once Thor was kissing him. It simply felt right, bracketed between the two of them the way he was.

“Relaxed?” Thor asked.

“Mm, yeah,” Bucky said, enjoying Steve’s rumble of agreement. He could tell that Thor would look at Steve over Bucky’s shoulder from time to time, like the two of them were talking, and he liked the idea of it, the notion that these two men were wordlessly deciding for him, putting him into place to be used they way they wanted. He didn’t try to chase Thor’s gaze, he decided to just enjoy it all, that it was the three of them, talking with their mouths and bodies and eyes.

“Let’s get you undressed, then,” Thor said, hands moving to the hem of Bucky’s t-shirt. It was loose on him because it was really one of Steve’s, and it was easily skimmed up and over his head. “Pretty,” Thor said, rubbing a flat, brown nipple with his calloused thumb.

His pants had been lifted back up over his hips but never re-zipped, so Steve easily slid them down his thighs so Bucky could step out of them. His feet were already bare, so he was naked in front of them, save for the silicone between his cheeks.

“You want this out, baby?” Steve asked, tapping the plug so it nudged up against Bucky’s prostate, and Bucky hissed out a raw, wordless affirmative as best he could. “Alright, sweetheart. Can you keep kissing Thor for me?”

Bucky mumbled out a yes, already leaning forward into Thor’s hands on his hips, leaning into the waiting gin-flavored kiss.

Like expected, Steve didn’t just pull Bucky’s plug out, but toyed with it, pressing on the flared base in before pulling it out a little, letting Bucky’s hole stretch wide around the biggest part, drawing it back so that Bucky’s hole was sliding over the tapered wedge of it —

And then it was being pressed back in for Steve to tease him with all over again.

“He likes playing with you, doesn’t he, Bucky?” Thor asked, before trailing kisses down Bucky’s throat. “Steve keeps you at his mercy.” Thor’s big hand snaked down Bucky’s front to cup his hard dick, his sack. “I like that,” Thor rumbled. “I like how well you behave for him.”

Steve finally, finally, dragged the plug all the way out, letting the tip kiss Bucky’s lube wet hole for a long moment before pulling it entirely away. The emptiness was an ache all its own, and Bucky frowned, gripping Thor’s arms hard as he tried to acclimate to way his body was stretched and waiting.

“Go on, get in the bed,” Steve said, patting Bucky’s ass. “We’ll be right there.”

Bucky tugged the quilt down, letting it drape sloppily over the floor. The sheets were jersey, soft as hell and probably exactly for the mess of sex. He shook out one of the bigger towels onto the bed and laid back on it, unbothered by the tacky lube still smeared across his hole. This was only the beginning of the mess.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Steve asked as they both took their shirts off.

It was a nice little side-by-side revue for Bucky. Thor was taller, handsome in a more rakish way, his more obviously ripped body fit to his ego like a shining gold gladiator’s breastplate. Steve’s muscular bulk fit him differently, more straight-backed and commanding — subtler, but more effective to Bucky, at least.

Thor shrugged, pulling off his jeans. “Five years, maybe? Learn how to take a dick yet?” Thor ribbed good naturedly.

Bucky snorted, rolling his eyes, and Thor winked.

“Could ask you the same question,” Steve shot back.

They were both naked now, standing in front of Bucky like two lions, bigger and heavier than they had any right to be, and all the better for it.

Thor smiled with the corner of his mouth. “Guess we’re in the same boat. And really, isn’t that why we’re here?”

Bucky looked down at himself, because they were looking at him too; he ran a hand down the body he worked hard to maintain, skimming over his waxed chest and abs, down over his cock (decent size, flushed pretty pink, pointing like an arrow to his bellybutton) and to his perfectly thick thighs. “Yeah,” Bucky agreed breathlessly. “I think so.”

Steve got into the bed, sprawling along Bucky’s back and pulling him in close; it was easy to sink into the warm, familiar embrace. Steve’s dick was hot and fat, snug up against his ass.

“You going to join us, sir?” Bucky asked, tipping his head back, letting his eyes linger on Thor’s half-hard cock, bobbing in front of him.

Thor smoothly crawled into the bed, grabbing the lube from the bedside table and facing Bucky and Steve. Another thick arm was slung around his waist, and Bucky found himself pressed between two large chests, crisp hair teasing at his cool skin.

Leaning forward, Bucky plucked at one of Thor’s small, dark nipples, pinching before pulling off to to merely tease it with the pad of his thumb. “Daddy,” he said, addressing Steve but not looking away from Thor, “will you fuck me?”

Steve’s hand on his hip went hard and tight before relaxing. “Yeah, sweetheart.”

Wordlessly, Thor took the lube and propped himself up on one elbow. He pumped some lube onto his hand, and reached over Bucky, dipping his fingers into the cleft of Bucky’s ass. Pleased at the cool, slick fingers— two, to start with— easing right inside his hole, pumping in shallowly once, twice, before sinking in more deeply. He hooked a hand under his knee and lifted his upper leg, opening his body for more.

“God, he’s— he takes it so good,” Thor said over Bucky’s shoulder.

Then Steve was reaching for the lube— he could hear Steve fucking his hand, smearing lube down that thick cock in long, methodical thrusts. Thor’s fingers slid out, lingering at at rim, and then they were gone, replaced by the broad, fleshy head of Steve’s cock.

Bare, this time.

He arched his back to make it easier for Steve to thrust slowly into him and tipped his head forward until he was breathing against Thor’s neck. It was easy to relax into the familiar rhythm, to roll his hips to meet Steve’s slow-moving thrust. Drawn in by the scent of sweat and peppery cologne, he let his mouth run up Thor’s neck, kissing and sucking until he was nipping at the corner of that hard jawline. Bucky let his mouth wander, but never kissed Thor on the lips. This was still all foreplay.

It was unusual for Steve fucking him to not truly be the main event. There as a certain lassitude to the way Steve was thrusting into him in long, slow pumps of his tireless hips— fucking on their sides was just a warm up. Fucking as foreplay. Fucking as the thing happening to him while he helplessly frot against Thor’s impossibly chiseled belly, his thick cock. Fucking as merely sinking into a syrupy-thick vat of desire, waiting for everything to boil over.

Bucky didn’t even try to keep himself from moaning when one of Thor’s big hands slid down his front, massaging his cock and tugging gently at his balls. He moaned again when those calloused fingers slid further back to trace the rim of his hole where it was stretched around Steve’s cock. Could Steve feel Thor’s fingers, too? Surely Steve noticed that sweet pressure, rubbing the both of them at the same time, teasing Steve’s cock though Bucky’s lube-wet skin.

“How’re you feeling, baby?” Steve asked.

“So good, daddy,” Bucky said, twisting awkwardly so he could see Steve’s face and steal a brief kiss. “Please, daddy, I need more.”

“You think so, baby?” Steve asked, petting Bucky’s stomach, his thrusts turned to the occasional micro-thrust, a teasing grind. He didn’t bother waiting for a reply. “Thor, you want to help me?”

Thor was pressing closer; Bucky felt small, tucked as he was between the huge mass of their bodies— and he wasn’t small, but he felt like he was comfortably small and submissive, safe between these two men.

“What’s the plan?” Thor rumbled, and Bucky shivered in anticipation: Steve had taken special care to share with Bucky every moment of his plan as he refined it. He had talked out his ideas late at night while they were in bed; texted Bucky during the day; groaned filthy things into his ear while they were fucking; whispered quick, dirty little thoughts in Bucky’s ear at work, always catching him unaware and sending his heart racing.

“Oh,” Steve said, his voice low. “I think I got it all figured out— huh, baby,” Steve murmured while reaching up to paw at Bucky’s nipples. “What I want to do is lay back here and have him sit on my dick, all pretty. Have him get his ass up so you can play with it while I’m fucking him, get him all wet and open. And when he’s all soft and sweet and begging for it — I want you to fuck him with me. And I want you to come in him, get him all sloppy and wet so I can fill him up, too.”

_Jesus,_ Bucky thought, overwhelmed by Steve’s words, the pairs of hands running over his body, tweaking and caressing and shattering his focus.

Thor took Bucky’s chin in his hand, and he wasn’t careful about it — not rough, but just the right side of manhandling Bucky liked in bed. “That sound right to you, little one?”

Bucky looked at Thor through lowered lashes, biting his lip and playing up the effect he knew his pout held. “Yes, please, sir. I’ve been thinking about it forever.”

Thor groaned, sexy and pained all a once, and Steve huffed out a low little laugh, amused. With Steve issuing low, charged suggestions, they untangled their legs and arms and pushed away from each other. Steve pulled himself slowly out of Bucky, leaving him feeling empty and dressed with a layer of uncomfortably cool sweat.

It was difficult to be empty when he’d spent so long waiting to be be stuffed full.

Steve shifted into place on the middle of the bed, reclining on his back, golden head propped up with a pillow. The lighting in here was low and yellow; it slipped and slid down Steve’s impressive physique, highlighting his bulging muscles and the slick slopes of his heavy pecs. His nipples looked peaked, pink and puffy, and when Steve beckoned, Bucky gratefully crawled onto him, straddling the narrow nip of Steve’s trim waist and hips, and lowering his mouth to suck at a nipple. He reveled in the way Steve jerked in pleasure at his touch, at the pressure of his mouth.

Behind him, he could feel Steve rubbing his cockhead up against the lax give of his wetted hole. He sat up, arched into and followed the movement, his thighs taut and working as best he could to draw Steve inside.

They both groaned when they fell into motion together, Steve’s cock sinking inside in slow, grateful inches. Bucky lowered his ass down slowly, not stopping until Steve’s thighs were jammed up right up under his ass.

Bucky looked over his shoulder. At the foot of the bed sat Thor, leaning back on his heels and leisurely jacking off, staring hungrily at the place where Bucky’s body had swallowed up Steve’s dick. Bucky sat up just a little, then rocked back down. “C’mon, sir,” he cajoled, not interested in begging, but teasing. “Don’t you wanna touch me?”

“Yeah,” Steve said. Big hands were prying Bucky’s cheeks apart. “Look at how hungry his little hole is.” It was easy to fall into his role: Bucky dropped forward in a long, slinky motion, balancing with his face against Steve’s shoulders and his ass up and knees spread wide. He purred out a long, low groan when cool, wet fingers found their way between his spread cheeks.

Steve didn’t thrust much in this position; it was more a gentle rocking motion, slightly out of sync with the movement of Thor’s fingers as they pressed in deeply. It was a whole new angle for them; much different from pumping a slim dildo in and out of himself while getting fucked by Steve’s tireless cock. The addition of new, curious fingers and an undeniable wall of strength at his back to match the one pressed to his front was a whole new form of sensory overload, all of which required only that he was receptive, that he perfectly embodied that peculiar mix of relaxation and tension that sex required.

Thor’s fingers were thick, maybe even thicker than Steve’s, and now three of them were plunging (slowly, but confidently) into his hole, fitting into the plush give of his walls alongside Steve’s cock. He was shivering with it, the rightest sort of sickness imaginable.

“Is this what you needed, baby?” Steve said, his voice the low, throaty purr of a big cat. Everything was a clash of intensity that was spooled out, like the drooling, syrupy wet of honey, over too long a time frame. He wanted more; he wanted more _now._ He needed more to happen to him because it would be the only way to stop this torment of too-much, too-sweet need.

He mouthed wetly at Steve’s neck, jaw. “More,” he demanded, rocking into the fullness and pressure as it was given to him. His cock was hard against the Steve’s firm belly, teased with barely-there friction. “More.”

“Such a demanding one we’ve got, Steve,” Thor said. The big fingers withdrew from him, and Bucky made a shocked, mournful sound at the resulting emptiness. “Shhh,” Thor growled, threading a hand through Bucky’s sweaty hair, tugging back with a delightful sharp pressure, distracting and pleasurable all at once. “You ready for my cock, little one?” Thor asked. He didn’t wait for a reply. “What do you think, Steve? He ready for me?”

Steve looked Bucky right in the eyes, his gorgeous flushed up and golden-wheat hair damp with sweat at the temples. Still held in place by Thor’s hand in his hair, Bucky nodded, swallowing hard against the tidal wave of anticipation. Thor radiated heat, his hips flush to Bucky’s ass now, that thick dick of his riding up against Buck’s slick crack, balls nudging up against the place where he was split open on Steve’s cock. God, he wanted.

“Yeah,” Steve said, his rocking thrusts stilling to nothingness, “he’s ready.”

Bucky breathed out, long and slow, deliberately relaxing his whole body. He loosened his neck and shoulders, dropped the tension from his thighs and calves. He let his spine soften into a sinuous curve. God, he wished for a minute to see through Thor’s eyes: what must he look like from back there, seated on Steve’s big cock, wet and waiting, placidly waiting for the promised _more._

And then the slippery pressure of Thor’s cock against the crease of his ass changed, slipping lower, forced downwards by a hand that rubbed against Bucky’s ass as it dipped lower. The tip of Thor’s cock nudged slickly at his hole, a sloppy kiss of feeling, and Bucky’s breath was shaky: with an overflow of sensation, yes, but also trembling even at the thought of more. The head popped inside. The pressure of Steve’s cock against his prostate grew, and flames ignited up his spine.

“Jesus— _fuck,_ ” he groaned. Cold sweat burst onto his skin. He suppressed a shudder, breathed into the stretch. Welcomed it.

Beneath him, Steve's body was rigid, tight, burning hot to the touch. A solid, immobile statue. Not thrusting, but the weight and heft of his cock was changing inside of Bucky, pressed inexorably downwards by the slow-moving intrusion of Thor's dick. It was an onslaught of _hot-hard-heavy_ pressure inside of him, and he forced himself to echo Steve’s tightly controlled breaths.

Thor’s cock was thick, thicker still with each inch that was pressing inside of him. Hands on his hips held him steady as Thor— after the world's slowest, gentlest, most intense thrust— bottomed out completely. The stretch was impossible, playing sweet tricks on his mind: he felt pulled to his limits, neurons firing in a rapidfire volley, ricocheting from one nerve ending to the next and back again. The intensity was incredible, even just in the few hazy moments that had passed since Thor had begun pushing into him.

Bucky realized he was whining a little with each panting breath— not pain, merely a little overwhelmed.

Warm hands cupped his sweaty face, and he found his gaze pulled, magnetically, to Steve's serious blue eyes. “Baby,” he said, low and soothing. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, daddy,” he croaked out, nodding feebly into the hands that touched his face so sweetly. “M’okay. Keep— keep going.”

It was impossible to tell who started thrusting first, because each cock rubbed against the other, churning his insides up with symbiotic friction. The molasses-slow rocking of one man’s hips sent Bucky to just barely hitching his own, keeping him in a constant feedback loop of slow-motion pleasure, rocking into the rise and fall of two cocks as best he could. He was in thrall to the pressure and the hard slide of liquid pleasure over the sweet little button of his prostate.

“Fuck, Steve, he feels incredible,” Thor groaned, sounding awestruck and making Bucky preen. Knots in his shoulders unraveled at the praise, and he sunk further into his position on his knees, spine bowing and his whole chest opening into the next exhale. “Jesus, little one, can't believe how good you are. You love it, don't you? Look at you. You were made for this.”

He couldn't tell whose hands were where anymore. He was anchored at the hips, anchored by the hands sliding in a caress up and down his back— and then he was set adrift by the heavy drag of two cocks splitting him open. Steve and Thor moved slightly out of sync, their thrusts careful and still a little jerky within him, so the friction was impossible to anticipate; it was all he could do to just ride it out, to not desperately fuck his hips back and risk dislodging the both of them. Bucky's thoughts were incoherent (fractals of _want_ and _more_ and _please, god, daddy, please)_ but he knew he couldn't stand to be empty.

“You’re perfect,” Steve whispered, kissing the soft skin next to Bucky's eye. Warmth suffused him, unequivocal rightness to soothe him as he was wrecked open. In reply, Bucky just barely whispered _Thank you, daddy,_ because that was the most he could manage.

Thor's praise had been good, but Steve's adoration was worth even more. It put him into blissfully overwhelmed state: his leaking cock was hard, rubbing restlessly against Steve’s hard belly; he pressed his face into the humid, hot hollow of Steve’s neck, breathing damp air into the place where neck met beefy shoulder. He felt like his whole body was being used, put into place and motion by two men inside of him, no more and no less of him needed than his pliancy, his sweet, happy complacency.

Above his head, Thor and Steve were talking, their voices low, gravely, the sticky-sugary rasp of fucked out men for whom rough and gentle were the same sweet thing. The conversation washed over him, moving through his body so the words could curl up under his breastbone.

“Been thinking about this for ages,” Thor rumbled. “Before you sent me that video. Before you let that sweet mouth of his suck my cock.”

“Did you watch us?”

“Couldn’t help it. You two don’t care where you fuck, do you? Watched you fuck the come right out of him in the gym showers months ago— god, you expect me not to think about about him after that?”

“I wanted you to see us. Knew you’d like it. God, Buck’s been panting for you, too. S’all we’ve been talking about.”

Their fucking grew faster, more desperate. Bucky could feel them: Thor shoved into him in deep, hard thrusts; Steve moved more slowly in comparison, but still grinding deep into Bucky’s guts, snapping upwards.

“God, Thor, missed seeing you like this,” Steve breathed out.

“You two look so good under me,” Thor grunted back. “Feel alright, little one?”

His head felt like it was made of clouds, but Bucky lifted it anyway, twisting his neck to look over his shoulder at Thor. The man’s hair was damp with sweat, his face red and mouth hanging open. His muscled tits heaved with the force of his breathing, his whole body gleaming and gold. “Want you to come in me, sir, please. Gimme your come.”

Like he had a few times already, Thor grabbed ahold of Bucky’s hair like he couldn’t keep his fingers away, giving Bucky just the right sort of tug. Thor pulled them together, dropping forward a little and yanking Bucky back against his chest. They were plastered together, and Bucky felt Thor’s body like a heatwave, trembling and lightheaded. “You want me to come in you? Get my come inside this hot little hole?” Thor’s voice dropped even lower. “M’gonnna come all over your daddy’s big cock, too. Get you all sloppy inside.”

Bucky’s mouth was open, his throat working convulsively, but he couldn’t be sure if he was pleading out loud, or if his litany of _please-please-please-please_ was all in his head. Judging by the way Steve’s pretty eyes go black, the words are pouring out of his mouth.

Thor was grunting with every single bone-rattling thrust, humping erratically. Bucky could feel his own body tightening up with anticipation. He was already imagining Steve fucking into his wet, sloppy, fucked out hole, his body only halfway to wrecked and begging still for more.

“Come on, Thor,” Steve said, “Come inside him. Fill him up for me. Wanna see it dripping out of him.”

There was the telltale stutter of hard thrusts, and then the molten, sticky pulse of come, jetting into his insides. In his ear, Thor was swearing, grunting in the throes of an animal orgasm. “Fuck, god, so fuckin’—”

Bucky could hear his own thready cries, a higher-pitched asynchronous harmony between the two of them. Steve panted beneath them, holding himself back, surely, judging by the strain written into the lines of his pretty face.

After the intense friction of Thor’s ogasm, everything again coiled into barely restrained anticipation. The heat of feeling Thor’s come in his ass had melted his spine a little, and he felt himself sag into Thor’s grip around his middle. He felt unable to hold himself up; he _needed_ Thor to hold him up. He wanted to sag into the man, to keep him tied into the threesome.

The man’s cock was barely going soft inside of him, and Steve was harder than ever.

The sound of Thor slipping free was a disgusting slurping, and Bucky loved it, barely able to keep from getting weak-kneed as the sound of Steve fucking him grew even more lewd and wet. Steve’s hands were holding onto his hips bruisingly hard, the same place he and Thor had been taking turns gripping him all night. He hoped for dozens of tiny half-moon bruises, fingerprints gone muddy from two men instead of one.

“I’ve got you, little one,” Thor said, pulling Bucky all the way back, exactly like Bucky wanted. Thor’s broad chest, sweaty-sticky against Bucky’s bare shoulders, was like the back of a chair, and Thor’s arms looped around his chest, keeping him upright when all he would have managed to do was collapse onto Steve’s big chest, drooling and high on the precipice of orgasm, and let the come be fucked right out of him. But Thor’s chin hooked over his shoulder, and the lower hand slipped further down Bucky’s body, until a hot hand engulfed his dick. “Look at this, Steve. He’s so hard, just from getting fucked. Look at this little cock.”

Steve was slamming up into him forcefully now. It was all Bucky could do to keep his trembling thighs locked into place. His own hips jerked against Thor’s tight but unmoving grip on his cock.

“Yeah, make ‘im come,” Steve said through sharp inhales and ragged exhales. “C’mon, baby, want you to come for daddy.”

Every whine and cry was punched out of his throat by the relentless fucking. Steve’s cock was moving so easily and perfectly inside of him: he was loose, so pliant, dripping wet with lube and come. He couldn’t help but clench up, helplessly, into the friction and pressure of it all, when Thor’s hand began moving mercilessly fast on his dick, pumping him so quickly it was a blur.

“Please sir, please sir, _please,_ ” Bucky whimpered. He went tense all over, and one hand scrabbled over the undulating ripples of Steve’s abs, while the other reached up to restlessly grip Thor’s elbow where it was banded across his chest.

Thor’s laugh was rich and hot in his ear. “Your daddy told you to come, didn’t he? So do it.”

Sound peaked in his eardrums, a slurry of soundwaves and the rising throb of his pulse. His whole body drew up tight, so tight he could hardly stand it — and he looked down at Steve, and saw he was just the same, with his golden head thrown back against the pillows and his whole body seizing up in rapture, his face a rictus of pleasure.

“Daddy, daddy, _please,_ ” was all Bucky managed to cry out, and then he was coming so hard it practically hurt. His entire body snapped into rigidity; the force of his orgasm was wrenching, again and again, as come shuddered out of his throbbing dick, splashing onto Steve’s heaving belly and over Thor’s thick fingers.

In the back of his mind, he was aware of Steve coming, too. It was there in the too-hard, grinding thrusts, and the hot burst of come inside his already wet insides; the way Steve groaned like he was in pain too, like coming as good as they were was a pain all its own.

Awareness flooded back into him by degrees: the trembling his arms and legs; the odd lance of pain in his joints; the throbbing, overworked and tender flesh of his used hole; the too-tight but needed grip where Thor was supporting his weight; the jab of Steve’s hip bones under his ass.

“Jesus,” Bucky mumbled. Come was leaking out of him in drippy trails; he could feel it sliding over his skin in burning trails. “That was…”

“So good,” Steve breathed.

Thor’s voice was steadier, he’d had a few more moments to recover. He sounded infinitely more gleeful than the men panting away underneath him. “Jesus, Steve. We should've done this sooner.”

* * *

 

They got brunch at a respectably late hour the next morning, somehow managing to get the perfect corner booth so the three of them could cram in together, Bucky squashed happily in the middle. Bucky slurped from his over-sized bloody mary, topped as it was with bacon and fried chicken and a flowery-topped stalk of celery, noisy and happy and leaning into Thor’s giant bicep while rubbing at Steve’s thigh.

Steve, of course, just wanted black coffee and fresh-squeezed grapefruit juice, but Thor was gleefully indulging in a shimmery, fluted mimosa that looked wonderfully absurd in his big hand.

He still felt exactly as happy and loose as he did when the three of them stumbled out of Thor’s oversized walk-in shower, dripping wet and unsure if they were shivering out of cold or heat or overstimulation. Both Thor and Steve had spent more time washing Bucky up than themselves, and he had preened sleepily while they propped him up under the hot water, washing him with a fluffy washcloth and Thor’s woodsy oil soap. Of course, they were both drawn to the mess spilling out of him, running careful, wet fingers over the tired pucker of his ass and gingerly rinsing him as he shivered and tightened at their sensitive touches.

Somehow, the three of them had gotten clean and dry, and tumbled into Thor’s bed to sleep off all the sex. Bucky had passed out first, but slowly, drifting further into sleep to the low melody of Thor and Steve talking quietly over his head, the both of him rubbing his lower back where it was sore from all the fucking.

They’d woken up slowly and languorously the next morning; Bucky kissed them both, and then snuggled into Steve’s arms while Steve leaned forward to press his lips to Thor’s. And they weren’t exactly in the mood for more fucking. All of them felt overworked, still, and they wanted to inhabit the softness of being close together for just a little longer. They ended up at brunch, a little underdressed and bleary eyed, but still blissed the fuck out.

“I’m going to keep this shirt,” Bucky announced to Thor, punctuating this remark with a pointed bite of his tomato-juice-and-vodka dipped chicken tender.

Thor looked down at the shirt in question: it was a worn shirt that hung loosely on Bucky’s frame, blue, emblazoned with three yellow crowns, Olympic rings on one sleeve. Bucky enjoyed the way Thor’s eyes moved slowly down his front and back up again to his eyes. “Looks good on you,” he said, grinning.

“Yes it does,” Bucky agreed.

Steve laughed, and Bucky smiled at him, too, enjoying the way Steve was playing with his loose, untreated hair at the nape of his neck.

They ate heaps of food, stealing from each other’s plates and trading bites, oblivious to anyone else in the restaurant. It was like they were in their own indulgent little world, still wrapped up in Thor’s designer jersey sheets and drunk on their own orgasms and sleepy, sated comfort.

When all the food had been scraped from their plates and the check delivered to their table, it felt wrong and strange to try to and separate themselves. All throughout the meal, Bucky felt like he needed to be touching both of them at the same time: holding hands or nudging ankles, flirting with an inseam or a wrinkle in a shirtsleeve. There was no reason for them to stay at the restaurant any longer, and yet… he didn't want to leave.

Thor touched Bucky’s hip, just above the waistband of his sweats, briefly giving a little pressure where faint blue bruises had risen to the surface. Both men had avidly watched Bucky examine them in the mirror earlier that morning. “We should do this again,” Thor said, quiet but serious, not unlike the way Steve spoke. In that moment, Thor seemed more like Steve than ever before, his boisterous edges smoothed out, and Bucky fell a little bit in love.

Steve looked at Bucky, his face not giving anything away. “What do you think, baby?” he asked, the perfect picture of nonchalance. Steve's blue eyes were more serious, though, and Bucky could read the real depths of what Steve was asking.

“Mmm,” Bucky said. He leaned forward and combed Steve’s thick hair away from his eyes with a few gentle strokes of his fingers. “I think that could be fun, daddy,” he murmured. He turned to Thor. Under the table, he hand his hand high on Thor’s thigh, rubbing carelessly erotic little circles into the muscle. “I think I’d like this. Being shared, sometimes.”

They were quiet for a moment. The din of the restaurant wove between them. Bucky felt what he'd felt last night: poised at the edge of something more, an enormous mantle that could fit the three of them, as strange and new as it was welcome.

“We don't have to decide right now what it means,” Steve finally said, breaking the quiet. Bucky slid his hand into Steve's and squeezed.

Thor breathed out a relaxed sigh. “That sounds fair to me.” He too, wrapped his hand around Bucky's.

Bucky smiled, tilting his head back until it rested against the back of the booth. “I like it. We'll figure it out as we go.”

Much later, Thor would walk them back to their car, and kiss them both while Steve and Bucky held hands. Even later, Bucky and Steve would sprawl out in their bed at their apartment and look at each other with equal parts curiosity and trepidation, unsure where to even start.

But for now, it was good exactly as it was.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Lana Del Rey's "Lolita." Which, uh. I mean, I don't feel like that requires an explanation. I also don't feel bad that I basically just wrote a lot of porn. It's nourishing for the soul (urs & mine).
> 
> This probably desperately needs editing, but I promised myself I'd post this by August 31st, so here we are, less than a half hour to spare, posting this before I embark on a self-imposed 2 month writing binge.
> 
> I do welcome comments, and constructive criticism is fine, so long as its offered, you know, gently. Please encourage me to write the facefucking follow up I thought of yesterday. Enable me.
> 
> I also have 60k+ on a more serious 1940s (monogamous but still porny) Stucky fic that could desperately use some beta'ing. If you'd like to volunteer to help me with that hot mess, please, by all means, let me know.


End file.
